We have rock star clients! We hung our with our favorite 'Orlando based theme park' team members on their own turf for the Food & Wine Festival on Weds. night and a great time was had by all!







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Our Atlanta office hosts are having a Halloween party on Friday, and the theme is "Whistle Blowers". Associates are encourage to come dressed to represent a "whistle-blowing offense." Some examples provided in the invitation were: Audit shredder, timesheet fudger, napster downloader, on-the-clock freelancer, and office supply thief to name a few. It's been all the talk around here the past few days! "What are you going to be?" "What are you going to be?" Unfortunately I'm at a creative road block and cannot come up with a costume worthy of the morning trip on MARTA.

At a loss for inspiration, this picture was snapped of me today to give me ideas. It is apparently representative of my standard offense, "disrupting the corporate environment," since I'm always on the phone. (Note the THREE phones I've got going.) The people around my desk listen to every conversation I have since their jobs do not required client interaction, and apparently I'm quite entertaining. I guess it just a day in the life of sales! Does anyone have extra phone headsets or old cell phones for me to use with my costume!?
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Sometimes in the creative department, we have to find creative ways to stay productive. During production, we can suffer from the designer's equivalent of writers' block. This is usually the point in the process when we just stop for a second and... transform into ninjas(that can rap)!

Oh, and to all of the fans that have been trying to get the goods on CPN and their upcoming single, expect to see more after the rest of the band is back from promo.
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During todays meeting, Snowflake was no where to be found! I hope she is okay. On a side note, we have a new person at MindComet, "Froflake" (and yes, I know that is a pun). She seemed to be very concerned about Snowflakes absense. Hopefully the stress hasn't made her crack.
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So, guess what I did this weekend. Watch the game? Nope. Mow the yard? Nope. I went to the White House. No, not my buddy's white house. The White House. Yeah, that one. And I didn't go see the boring old Lincoln Bedroom crud. I got to go to the West freaking Wing:

You might be wondering how one gets to take a tour of the White House West Wing in this post-9/11 world. First, you have to know somebody who works there. Fortunately my wife has a cousin who is a Coast Guard communications specialist stationed at the White House. Next, you have to pass a Secret Service background check. Fortunately they didn't find out about my time as an Uzbek goat smuggler.

So I'll try to skip most of the boring stuff and get right down to the juicy tidbits of my tour. We started off going to the Press Briefing Room. You know that big, well-lit room you see on TV all the time where the Press Secretary answers questions from annoying reporters? My first impression: what a dump! It was tiny, dimly-lit and had stains on the carpet (I guess reporters are messy). But it was one of the few areas inside the House in which they won't shoot you for taking pictures. So I snapped a few. And now, White House Press Secretary Nathan Dawson...And my wife's cousin revealed a dark White House secret to us: there's a trap door right in front of the podium in the Press Room. He claimed that the room was built over the old White House pool, but I think it's where people go when they "disappear." I betcha Hoffa is down there somewhere.

So then we went through the West Wing. Sorry, but I don't have any pictures. It's really, really forbidden. Had I tried, I think I would have would have wound up in that room underneath the Press Briefing Room. But I did get to see the Oval Office, the Cabinet Room, the Roosevelt Room, the Rose Garden and four Norman Rockwell drawings worth $1,000,000. Here's a picture from the Rose Garden: I also got to see what was on the menu at the White House Mess Hall. It included such fine delicacies as PB&J sandwiches. And I got to see some of the Official White House Snipers and this mean-looking White House guard dog:

But I just had to get a picture somewhere in the West Wing. Feeling the call of nature, I saw my chance. Right around the corner from the Oval Office is the men's room. I dashed in and locked the door. My first thought: "Jeez, how tiny!" I mean, it was nice and everything, but I would have thought that the President might warrant something more, well, Presidential. So I snapped the following picture before taking care of business:

And it got me to thinking. How many Presidential buttocks have graced that porcelain seat? And how cool is it that I, a professional computer geek from Orlando, could use it, too?

You know, even though we don't have a King in the United States, at least our President has a throne.
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Quake 4 comes out this next Tuesday. We won't be able to play it around the office until the Mac version comes out, but nonetheless we're all extremely excited. The fight for better video cards and processors will be pretty intense.

Which brings me to the point of this post...

Many people within the company play Quake 3: Team Arena on a regular basis. We kick beans as a team and generally have to outnumber our team with top notch bots to even make it a challenge. However, in the 1-on-1 space, I am in a league of my own. You'll no doubt see comments to this post about how someone beat me in a game just the other night. That's one game. One out of hundreds we've played. Seriously? You're going to argue about one game you won once when I was possibly even away from my desk for half the game?

You'll most likely also hear about how someone might win in Half-Life, Contra, or whatever the kids are playing nowadays. All I can say is "bring-it!"

oh... and it smells like fish in our kitchen.
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Another edition of "Bathroom Soundcheck" is coming soon. But instead of me doing the entire Mariah Carey soundbook and enjoying myself tremendously, I thought I'd open the floor to requests. Any song you would like to hear sung in an acoustically-perfect bathroom?

Personally, any power ballad is suitable. But I will do "Wake Me Up Before You Go Go" of you really want to hear it.

You should know, Bathroom Soundcheck takes more than one person to produce, so props must be given to Oachie, the man who guarded the door from people needing to use the bathroom while the recording session was in progess. And to Adam, the lone person who came to the door and was turned around by Ochie.
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I used to be the New Guy. That's right, used to be. Everything was all hunky-dory: people would wave to me from their desks, "hello New Guy!" or just smile, glad to be tipping their hats for the first time in the direction of the New Guy. I experienced no social discomfort fumbling around the office, asking anyone who's eyes I caught where I might find a ball point pen, packet of artificial sweetener, or handy lavatory; all in a day's work for the New Guy. I felt like a freshly minted coin: shiny, clean, and completely unaware of just where the hell the copy machine is.

That all changed today. Today, Michael Shollenberger showed up.

Suddenly, things aren't quite so easy anymore. My time to bask in the soft glow of fresh innocence has been wrenched away by the "new" New Guy. I just don't know where I stand... am I the Recently New Guy? The New-ish Guy? The Guy Formerly Known as the New Guy (TGFKATNG)? Now how am I going to casually explain away my atrocious Quake 3 playing, my complete and total inability to suggest a place to eat lunch? Now, when asked if I've seen Vernon from Human Resources come in yet, I can't smile slowly and simply say, "sorry, don't know. New guy." Now I have to resort to replying "Sure, he's right over HOLY MOTHER LOOK BEHIND YOU!" before throwing myself under the nearest desk.

Enjoy it New Guy. Me? I'm going to enjoy settling into my position as one of the Newer Guys. I look forward to many years into the future, watching the New New New Guy settle in for his first day. While he fumbles with the 32 point servo articulation of his space-age ergonomic office chair, I'll chuckle to myself, sitting in front of my 98" widescreen UltraHigh Definition monitor, and think back to my one special day of being the New Guy.


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Last Saturday, bright and early, a cadre of MindComet peepz descended on two homes being built for families in need. Well, the houses were pretty much already built. I thought it would be great to learn a new skill, like perhaps laying tile or drywalling. But the pallets of sod placed strategically throughout the yard gave us a tiny hint of what the day would hold. Some of us escaped sod duty and were tasked with roofing a small shed. All in all it was a fun, but tiring day. We helped out a couple of deserving families, met some new folks... and afterwards soaked in a hot bath then crashed for a few hours. Humanitarianism is tough work.
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Our new office doesn't have a dishwasher. As you can imagine, this brings out the worst in people.

The first week we moved in, I noticed a pileup. With good spirit, I dug in and cleaned the dishes, chalking it up to people being too exhausted from the move to do their dishes.

The second week, another pileup. I did these begrudgingly and made an announcement in the Tuesday meeting that retribution would be swift and severe for all dirty dish leavers.

The third week. Another pileup. It defied logic. I ignored them. We all did. I came in on Tuesday and somehow, the dishes had moved to the other sink. All still dirty - just moved positions. Why? How? It stayed this way for a week. And today, they had moved back to the original sink.


For cakeplow, Jared and I took one for the team. But this is my last dirty dish. I'm not kidding.
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so...i was in this meeting.

and...the discussion turned to designing a logo.

and...i doodled as ideas were being bandied about.

and...i thought the doodles were a fair contribution.

but...some art guy said to burn them... you decide.


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I wasn't born this hot. And blonde. No. Once I was like you: normal.
Average. Dull. Hair the color of muddy silt, skin with the elasticity
of a pork chop and clothes as stylish as a muddy unelastic pork chop.
That is, until I was given a sample pack of Mindcomet Hotness
pills. Within two days my hair was blonde, my abs were ripped and my
clothes were as stylish as the stuff in Express. I couldn't believe
it. And once I had my new-found hotness, at work, girls were dropping
pens asking me to pick them up, accidently bumping into me so they
could rub up against my firm pectorals and tripping over non-existent
objects so I would catch them in my new ripped arms. I have to say:
being hot sure makes life, and work, a lot more fun. Thank you
Mindcomet Hotness pills!


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"Backdoor guests are always best."

I remember seeing that stitched on a sampler at a garage sale this past weekend. It was raining. I picked up the wet piece of cross-stitched hominess and wished it wasn't so moist. I hugged it to my bosom, trying to dry it off. It worked. I brought it home and set it out on my plastic kitchen table to dry. A day later, it was as good as new. And dry.

When I think about that sampler, I think about our Cakeplow readers. No, I don't think of you as moist. I think of you as our neighbors and friends we let in through the backdoor. No key needed. Just come on in. Sit a spell. Have a glass of lemonade. Use our bathroom.

And though we enjoy your visits, we know you are a busy man/woman/ceo/unemployed ice cream delivery man/woman/ceo and that maybe you need to rss our bastian of randomness. I am pleased to announce that we have now provided you with this service. If you choose it, you'll get the same content: pics, sound files and writing. We just won't be seeing much of each other. Sniff sniff. :( Drop us a comment every now and then and...we'll leave the backdoor open for ya.
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Everyone welcome the brand new dynamo joining the strategy team: Kathleen Kennedy. I need everyone's help to put together an appropriate nickname for her. The current challenge lies in that we have another Cathleen and we have a Kelly Kennedy. Please post comments and suggestions and we'll be calling her something other than 'Skippy' by the end of this week!







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Children! Gather round and let me regale you with tales of tight speedos, buttery nipples and knee highs. It's Ralphie's Spring Break Adventure and it's hot hot hot! Click above and be swept away!
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The fresh scent of bratwurst. The crisp aroma of sauerkraut. It's Octoberfest season. Get our your lederhosen and do this month proud!
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Imagine this scenario: you have worked with one of your fellow employees for several years. You know them to be a typical boring office drone. Day after day they show up for work in Dockers, a Perry Ellis shirt and power tie. They go on and on about their kids, their impending surgical procedure, and how they love whatever new reality show is on ABC this month. Then one year at the company Christmas party they get loaded and start showing off their "Cowboy Buttz Drive Me Nuttz" tattoo to anybody who will look at it.

So, being a multiply tattooed freak myself, I wondered what secrets (a.k.a. "drunken lapses in judgement") my fellow MindCometeers might be hiding underneath their "Feed Me Tacos" t-shirts. So, here it is...the Official First Annual MindComet Tattoo Quiz.

The rules are simple. Look at the pictures below (click for a larger version). Guess which tattoos belong to which MindComet employees (multiple tattoos can belong to the same employee). Send an e-mail to Nathan with your guesses. The winner receives a serenade from Mark about how beautiful their feet are.

P.S. I can't tell you how relieved I am that nobody here at MindComet had a tribal armband tattoo.

Clickey clickey for a bigger version:

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When I first came to MindComet there were talks about doing a bum sign generator for a viral campaign. Since I hadn't shaved for a few days and had long hair I knew that I looked sort of bummy at the time. So I decided to volunteer myself to dress up as the bum for the campaign. I had no idea what I had just gotten myself into. I learned a lot of things between now and then so I felt compelled to share them with you!

- Chicks don't dig sporadically growing facial hair. I broke up with my girlfriend of five years all because of my facial hair! (OK so maybe that wasn't the reason)
- There is a strip on my face where the hair doesn't grow. It looks like Moses parted the Red Sea on my face.
- I have the facial hair growth rate of a 12 year old italian boy.
- The hair directly under my nose grows in a lot fuller than on the sides. Naturally giving me the appearance of the Hitler mustache.
- My mom might have slept with the mail man. For some reason I have red hair in my goatee, even though there isn't a single person in my entire family with red hair.
- When I let my facial hair grow out and my hair is as long as it is a lot of people call me Jesus! (Having a shirt that says "Jesus is f'ing METAL" doesn't help either)
- My mustache and hair make me look like a young Ron Jeremy.
- I found entirely too many ways to fidget with my facial hair. Being able to put my chin hair in my mouth is not something to be proud of.
- When you think you finally look bummy enough to take the picture Murphy's Law will kick in and make you wait another 2 weeks to get the pictures finally taken.
- Trying to explain to everyone you know why you haven't shaved and look like crap can get extremely repetitive.
- When people see you walking downtown dressed as a bum walking around with a camera crew they have a tendency to stare.
- Jay introducing me to everyone he knows as "Some bum we found on the streets" makes people wonder.
- Real bums are far more dirtier than me, wear flannel plaid no matter how hot it is, and are scary. (I was afraid a bum was going to shank me over some turf war)
- Everyone has a bad driver's license picture, but when you lose your wallet and have to get a new one a week before the bum picture it's going to be really bad!! I'm talking about cousin Itt from Addams Family...



-Andrew